


Hardcor Romance

by Haprilona



Series: Tales of the Immortal and the Glacian [1]
Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: F/M, Fluff and Humor, Humor, Romance, dumb headcanons
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-28
Updated: 2017-01-28
Packaged: 2018-09-20 12:50:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,766
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9491645
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Haprilona/pseuds/Haprilona
Summary: The Immortal’s legend grows steadily among Niflheim’s ranks. The Glacian may or may not be partially responsible.





	

Cor was surrounded.

He had been fighting side-by-side with his four companions Prince Regis, Wheskam, Cid and Clarus just a moment ago, but Cor had remained behind to allow his liege time to withdraw and regroup. Prince Regis had received a bullet to his dominant arm. It seemed rather harmless at first and Wheskam had made sure to toss a potion his way, but as the fighting continued, the wound revealed itself to be more serious than initially expected. Prince Regis required immediate medical attention if he intended to keep fighting with a sword in hand for years to come. No matter how strong or how capable the young prince was, they had to make sure he would live to fight another day.

The men in coats of imperial grey and white raised their weapons in unison. Cor slid his feet apart and readied to lunge towards the closest man to use him as a meat shield against the onslaught of bullets.

It never came to that.

The air around him seemed to drop in temperature sudden and swift. His fingers grew numb and frost formed between his dark lashes as his steamy breath clouded his vision. The soldiers exchanged looks and some even glanced furtively around them for the source of the unnatural cold. A soldier with red lining on his coat indicating his status as a sergeant took a step forward and pulled the trigger. A useless clicking sound was his only reward. The gun mechanisms had frozen. The man snarled and attempted to drop his gun to pull out a knife from his boot, but his gloved hands were as if glued to the gun’s handle.

Cor wasn’t about to let the opportunity pass.

With his katana raised, he let out a feral battle cry and impaled the Niff sergeant. The subordinates spurred into action as they saw their leader fall. A svelte man – boy, really – lunged at him and attempted to clubber him with his frozen gun. Cor easily sidestepped the amateurish move and rewarded the kid with a hard smack to his face with the end of his katana’s handle. Blood gushed from the young man’s nose and he reflexively raised his hand to cover his face, but only managed to hit himself with the gun glued to his hands.

The rest of the Niff soldiers weren’t as lucky. Even as they attempted to overwhelm him with only their superior numbers as their advantage, Cor found little challenge in sidestepping their slow, clumsy attacks. Some of the more experienced soldiers managed to defend themselves for a total ten seconds, shielding themselves with their frozen guns, but in the end they would lose their footing from a hard kick and have their heads cleaved off or a receive a swift stab to the heart. Now, Cor wasn’t a barbarian and he didn’t enjoy beheading people, but he was even less a sadist who would let the poor men bleed to death for hours on end.

His boots squelched as he stepped over the spreading puddles of fresh blood. The soles of his boots were rarely clean. More often than not he had found himself leaving red footprints while making his rounds in the outposts. So much so that prince Regis had commissioned a shoemaker to make combat boots with red soles just for him.

When a decade later the young prince Noctis would ask him why the Crownsguard wore red-soled boots, Cor was not about to humour the child with gruesome stories of guts and glory.

The temperature began to rise back to normal. Cor made his way to the kid who had managed to knock out himself. He emptied his gun and dropped it back to its owner’s hands before impatiently kicking the Niff’s black leather boot-soles. The young man groaned as he slowly came to. When the blurry image of the Lucian’s scowling face became clear, the Niff gasped and raised his gun.

“Don’t bother, kid. You can’t kill me.”

Cor could've watered the royal garden with all the sweat the Niff was producing as the kid stared back at him, wide-eyed and lips twitching. He pulled the trigger. Nothing happened. Cor had to give him points for bravery. But bravery alone would not get a man more than a trip back home in a coffin.

“Of course you don’t listen”, the black-clad man snarled and sent the kid’s weapon flying out of his hands with a swift kick. A whimper escaped the boy’s pale thin lips as Cor trapped the Niff between his bloodied boot-sole and the hard ground. “Tell your superiors that the Immortal is here and doesn’t take kindly to grunts like you prancing around on Lucian soil as if you own the place.”

The kid only gawked back at him, not comprehending anything as he waited for a swift death. With an irritated sigh Cor removed his boot, grabbed the Niff by the collar of his uniform and shook him roughly.

“Tell them that the Immortal is watching and there will be a reckoning. Understand?”

Finally the boy managed a shaky nod and was dropped unceremoniously by the Lucian. “Good. Now get lost before I change my mind.”

The kid could really run when he wanted to.

Cor sat down on a nearby stone and set his katana aside. Removing the beret from his head, the Lucian waved it in front of his face in an attempt to cool down from the hotness and humidity that followed after the prolonged fighting. He hadn’t managed to catch a break all day and the sun was already making its way to hide behind the horizon.

“I prefer you without the silly hat”, an exotic accented voice commented followed by a delicate hand running through his damp brown locks. Sighing, Cor closed his eyes and leant against the blessed coolness of her skin.

“It’s part of my uniform. It is an honour to wear it.”

Her laughter was like the chiming of bells. She smelled of crisp winter air like the one you could breathe high up in the mountains where no pollution could reach. Her long black locks lightly tickled his cheek. Cor opened his icy blue eyes and was greeted by the warm moss green of hers, the inhumanly flawless, pale face mere inches away from his own. At this proximity he could see a hint of maroon surrounding her pupils.

Turning away from her, Cor took out a rag from his pocket and began to clean his bloodied katana. “You didn’t need to do that. I had it under control.”

Painted lips curved into a serene smile. “You cannot deny it will only serve to exaggerate the legend of the Immortal.”

His only response was a frown as he concentrated on removing a particularly stubborn stain from the tip of his blade. A black satin gloved hand snatched his and entwined slim fingers with his coarse ones.

“Gentiana”, he grumbled. “I need to head back. Prince Regis is waiting for me.”

She grinned impishly at him. “The Prince isn’t expecting you for another hour or so. Must you always be in such a hurry when you have ample time to spare?”

Not able to think of a suitable argument with her lithe body lightly pressed against his side, Cor huffed and withdrew his hand from her soft satin and continued to remove the evidence of violence. He was on duty. It would look bad on his resume if he was seen fooling around with a woman.

His rag got stuck against the katana’s blade. It was frozen solid. He turned to glare at the alluring temptress.

“It would appear you cannot return to your liege’s side with your weapon out of commission.” The tranquil smile turned sly.

Cor sighed and set his weapon aside. “So it would seem.”

He opened his arms in an invitation. Not bothering to hide the smug smirk, Gentiana settled down in his lap and wrapped her arms around his neck. Cor eyed her plump, pink lips in contemplation. There had to be some kind of rule against this. _Thou shalt not mingle with the Glacian._ _Thou shalt not kiss the Glacian and keep thine lips intact._ Gentiana cleared her throat and arched her eyebrow at him expectantly. With a final resigned eye roll, Cor claimed her soft lips.

It was a strange experience no matter how many times he did it. Her mouth was cool and her kiss left him with a cold breath. Still, it wasn’t entirely unpleasant. Rather, it made Cor think of eating too cold ice-cream; it still tasted good, but left you with a headache. Her painted lips gently massaged his. He wasn’t sure which one of them was enjoying it too much, but he was certain one of them was. Her gloveless hand tucked at his short hair as her lips left his, teeth playfully plucking his upper lip.

“Stop that.”

“Do me a favour.” Her slim nose nuzzled his face. “Get rid of the moustache.”

His brows shot up in surprise. “What’s wrong with it?”

Her hands dropped from his neck and hair to rest against his chest. “Doesn’t fit your handsome face.”

“First the hat and now the moustache. What does it take to satisfy you, woman?” he growled into her neck.

“You could begin with not resisting my affections every time.” He didn’t miss the shrewd tone in her accented voice.

Cor pulled her choker down enough to expose her pale neck. “Fine. Will you stop bothering me about the hat, then?” He pressed heated kisses along her bare skin, causing her dark lashes to flutter shut as she let out a low hum in contentment.

“Gentiana.”

She pointedly ignored him and let her hands slide underneath his coat.

“You’re not going to drop it, are you?”

* * *

Loqi paced in front of the young Niflheimian private. The boy had sat down and held an icepack over his bleeding nose.

“So you’re saying the Immortal can control the very elements now?”

“Yes, sir. All of our weapons were frozen solid and glued to our hands. We couldn’t do anything!”

Loqi stopped pacing and glared at the private. “Fifty armed Niflheimian soldiers have a single Lucian soldier surrounded and at a point blank range, no less. Yet _he_ survives and only _you_ make it back alive to tell the tale?”

“T-that’s correct, s-sir.”

“Dismissed.”

The private hurried out of the officer’s quarters. With a long-suffering sigh Loqi sat down and rubbed his temple. “Only a cold-hearted bastard like you could capture the Glacian’s heart, Leonis.”

**Author's Note:**

> Lol I don't know.


End file.
